


sleep deprived

by tessalate



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Post-Canon, ill adjusted catra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24318337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessalate/pseuds/tessalate
Summary: catra can't sleep and adora has a solution in mind.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 223





	sleep deprived

**Author's Note:**

> Hi She-Ra fandom... it's ya boy. First time writing catradora. This was supposed to be just a small drabble I could post on twitter but it expanded. Apologies for the half assed title. Ples enjoy

Catra had thought that the surface of the moonstone would be hotter. More abrasive somehow, with how bright it shines, the power it holds. The machines in the Horde always heated up when they were used on max power, and Catra doesn't know — or care — much about machinery but she knows that eventually, everything stops working, pulled apart by the bursting power within.

Why, then, is the moonstone cold as she sits upon it, claws idly scratching at its diamond-like surface? It feels strange, she muses. To be sitting at the very heart of Bright Moon's — and some people would even say Etheria's — power and not feel anything, positive or negative, while bathed in its cool light wasn't how she expected her future to go back at the Horde. 

It's odd, and she would describe it as _anticlimactic_ if it weren't for the fact that it were so much more expansive than that, the coolness of the hard stone beneath her evidence and more of everything she's done and everything she hasn't.

At least there's a nice view.

She sighs, leaning back against its curved surface, closing her eyes. Adora must be fast asleep by now, in their shared bedroom, cushions stifling and silky and the sound of running water — of course they have a fucking _waterfall_ in their room — white noise that grows louder and louder as her lover's breaths grow more spaced. Catra was told that she'd get used to it all, she remembers with a snort.

It hasn't happened yet, though. Tiredness claws at her eyes, just like it did back at the Horde, limbs heavy and eyes burning. When she lies down amid those huge pillows, she feels something sit on her chest, squeezing her into a box, watching her every move. The room is big, airy, so unlike any of her previous bedrooms but that just makes it worse. They’re _there_ , she’s right within their grasp, when are they going to break through her walls, finally tear into her soul for the reaping?

The surface below her vibrates suddenly, sensitive skin picking it up and she jumps, a yelp escaping her as she scrabbles for purchase on the smooth stone, her body sliding off. There's a soft laugh in the air and a glowing rope wraps itself around her waist.

"Hey, Adora," she mutters, rolling her eyes as She-Ra gathers her unceremoniously in her arms. "Go back to sleep."

"Most people would say 'thank you'," Adora responds lightly, leaping off the moonstone grandly. "How did you even _get_ up there?"

"Doesn't matter." And then, "Melog. They were gonna come back for me."

"You're not nocturnal, Catra," Adora says gently. "How long has it been since you last slept?"

_Around… four days, not taking naps into account._

"Says the woman who traipses around the castle as She-Ra in the middle of the night. Suspicious," Catra says, scoffing. "Put me down."

"No," Adora says simply.

"Come on, Adora, I can take care of myself just fine, you don't need to—"

"Actually," she replies, briskly walking down the stairs, two at a time, Catra's head bumping against her armor, "You can't. We almost had an intergalactic empire wipe out the planet because you can't take care of yourself."

Her tone is lighthearted, jovial as she fails at being soundless through the castle's halls, but Catra feels herself wilt in Adora's arms. It feels so strange, like a gut punch ever so soft to hear the words of the voices in her own head being repeated to her by the one she loves. It makes it _real_ , somehow, the devastation written boldly on her own skin for everyone to see.

"Adora, I…" Catra purses her lips, trailing off. 

"Don't say anything," Adora advises.

"Got it," Catra says glumly, allowing Adora to make the descent in silence, except for the ringing footsteps of her eight-foot-tall form. 

When they reach the base of the stairs, Catra feels Adora slump a little. "I guess that was out of line," she says. "I'm sorry."

"Adora, no, you're— does that mean you're gonna put me down?" Catra inquires suddenly, shoving aside the warm, shaky feeling in her chest. 

Adora sighs, her She-Ra form vanishing, leaving her looking much more tired than she did originally. "You really can't sleep here, can you."

"No, it's… I'll be okay, Adora. You shouldn't skip out on sleep for my sake," Catra finishes tiredly. 

"Don't be stupid, Catra. I'm your girlfriend, it's literally my job."

"Oh," Catra says, smirking, using the conversation as a distraction to land a foot on the floor. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"No," Adora says again, yielding and letting her down with a soft, exasperated laugh. “Although, I do have another idea,” she adds, heading down the corridor, away from the bedrooms. “Follow me.”

Catra’s fingers fly over a dashboard, competent in the familiarity of their situation, the wind against her skin. The ex-Horde transport she currently sits in is significantly different than she remembers them to be — once the surviving Horde tech was distributed between the princesses’ territories, they’d had their respective tech specialists retrofit them to suit each kingdom. Bow had obviously prioritized aesthetics with this particular transport, because all the buttons were varying shades of purple and pink, completely different to their original form, and Catra is purely relying on her muscle memory to locate each control. 

The transport swerves violently, and Adora’s fingers dig into Catra’s upper arm. “Are you sure about this? Maybe we should’ve just taken Swift W-”

“Do _not_ say that name,” Catra mutters, and stabilizes the transport again using a combination of educated guessing and sheer luck. The horse has a habit of showing up precisely when Catra least needs him to, and _now_ definitely counts as one of those times. “Right, now, where did you say the clearing was, again?”

“Keep going west,” Adora murmurs, squinting into the distance as Catra slows the thing down, bringing it lower such that it almost brushes the tops of the trees in the Whispering Woods. “Almost there… yeah.”

Catra spots the clearing through the visor, a small patch of grass and shrubs right before the precipice of a steep cliff. Furrowing her brows, she slows the transport further and brings it gently to a stop, descending onto a stretch of flat ground. 

“Not bad,” she mutters to herself, impressed. “I actually remembered where all the buttons were.”

“Well,” Adora says. “You have been doing this for the majority of your life.”

“Yeah, but not with transports whose buttons are all _bright pink_ ,” Catra protests, making a mental note to politely make a case for the functionality of transports to the Bright Moon tech master. 

“Bow is doing just fine,” Adora says placidly, hopping out and rummaging around in the back for their sleeping bags. One of them lands Catra on her ass, clocking her square in the nose, and her body betrays her, laying her down on the soft, gently fragrant grass. “Also, some of them are purple.”

“Hello? Muscle woman? Can you avoid almost killing people with sleeping bags, please?”

Adora snorts. “Glad I found my target.” With a flourish, she lays hers out beside Catra’s spread-eagled form and loops an arm around her waist, drawing her close. Too exhausted to pull her sleeping bag out of the container bag, she just lays it out as a pillow and hogs some of Adora’s space, throwing a leg over her waist.

“You’re so warm,” Catra murmurs, resting her head on Adora’s shoulder. “I love you,” she adds, quieter, her speech broken like pieces of a ceramic plate being held together by splinters.

It felt like magic was driving her, when she first confessed, the words spilling out of her mouth, channeling a force that almost didn’t feel like it belonged to her, but now, that invisible force doesn’t fill her body with strange, magical light any more. She’s left with her own muscles, her own nerves, and in theory, she likes it better this way, but that doesn’t make the words any harder to pronounce, any more daunting when she says them.

Adora smiles. “I love you too, Catra,” she replies, kissing her on the head, right between her ears.

The breath escapes. Again. And warmth fills her, and it’s all worth it — all over again. She wraps her tail around her lover, nuzzling in before following Adora’s gaze skyward. 

“Did you know,” Adora says, voice quiet, barely distinct amid the steady buzzing of insects around them and the rushing of the river below, “that before Mara pulled us into Despondos, the people of Etheria had a sort of… logic that told you your personality based on what constellation you were born under.”

“Uh huh,” Catra says, her eyes beginning to close, Adora’s voice lulling her to sleep. “Says who?”

Adora shrugs. “Bow’s dad Lance,” she says. “Apparently, Glimmer’s means that she’s supposed to be adventurous or something.”

“Sounds like her,” Catra hums, lifting up a hand and idly watching the stars through the gaps in her fingers. “Not like it matters though,” she yawns, cuddling further against Adora’s side. “I don’t think we even have birthdays.”

“We have to have been born _some_ day,” Adora objects. She sits up then, suddenly, and Catra’s head hits a rock on the ground.

“ _Ow,_ ” she protests. 

“Sorry,” Adora says distractedly. She looks towards Catra, eyes shining the way they always do when she’s thought of a particularly terrible idea. Usually, Catra would say that it’s cute. Now, it’s just left her with a throbbing skull and an acute awareness of her sleep deprivation. “Do you think Hordak knows our birthdays? How long is the trip from here to Dryl,” she muses out loud, whipping out a tablet from seemingly nowhere.

“ _Adora_ ,” Catra groans. “I thought we came here so I could sleep. Plus, you know you could just call, right?”

Adora sighs and lays back down. 

“Y’know,” she says after a while, “It wasn’t easy for me either, at first.”

“Sleeping?” Catra inquires, her ears perking up.

“Yeah.” Adora makes herself comfortable, hand snaking around Catra to stroke at the medium sized bump on her head, soothing it. “That, and the _pillows_. They’re so huge and soft, makes you wonder how Glimmer survived so long without being suffocated by them.”

Catra smiles. “No wonder she’s so strong.”

“Yup.”

Adora joins her laugh, the soft sound making Catra reach over and peck her lightly on the lips. Adora’s laugh isn’t anything most people would call sweet, but it makes Catra feel light, free.

“It’s awkward,” she says finally, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I just… keep expecting them to call off the nice, peace-loving act and throw me in solitary, like it’s back in the Horde. I…” she trails off, shuddering. “It gets me on edge.”

She glances briefly at Adora, suddenly self-conscious, but Adora’s gaze is steady when she looks back. 

“I know it feels like it, but it’s not acting. Okay?”

A hand holds Catra’s chin lightly, tugging her to meet Adora’s eyes. They’re insistent, almost grey in the low light coming from the transport.

“Adora—” Catra begins, because she _knows_ this, because reality is so so very different from how it plays out in her head, where its everyone for themself and they’re gonna find her and cast her out.

“I’m with you,” Adora whispers. “I’ll be with you always, and soon you’ll realise that everyone else is, too.”

“Fuck, fine, no need to get all intense in my face,” Catra mutters, but she still feels her lips curve, smiling.

In the distance, the sun has begun to rise, the faintest rays of morning brightness percolating through the dim sky, and the quiet forest noises drag Catra’s eyelids down again as she adjusts her position, head rested against Adora’s chest. Both of Adora’s arms are wrapped tight around her, and by the slowing in her breathing, Catra guesses that her girlfriend is asleep already. She sighs to herself, chuckling softly. Adora’s always been abnormally quick to sleep. 

“G’night, Adora,” she hums before the darkness pulls her in. 


End file.
